


Unexpected Christmas

by BakerStTardis (Sokashi)



Series: Johnlock Advent [1]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5341667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokashi/pseuds/BakerStTardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have to spend Christmas away from Baker St.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism and beta remarks are not welcome, thank you.
> 
> Ok for some reason AO3 keeps posting this as the first on the series but it is the second! It won't fix for some reason. I'll try again tomorrow. Just don't get confused. This is the second one. :)

It was a case, of course it was a case. And John would be annoyed by that since it was Christmas only it truly was a brilliant case and it wasn't like John had anyone to spend Christmas with anyway. Then came the storm. It covered London, it stopped all trains and flights and the rentals cars had vanished before Sherlock and John had even realized one would be needed. 

"John." Sherlock said and it was that lost tone he used when John was needed. Soft, a little bewildered. It didn't matter how loud and overcrowded the room was, John heard it and looked back at his friend, heart thumping in concern. The coat collar was up, hands in pockets, chin tucked down to hide as much of his face as possible. 

"Sherlock." John started to ask what was wrong then stopped because he was an idiot. A woman, loud, brash talking fast spanish on a cell phone bumped into Sherlock hard and his friend flinched minutely, eyes flickering with discomfort.

John gave up on trying to find out their chances of a new flight or a car or anything and moved towards him, unable to do anything else. "Come on. Let's go."

"London-" Sherlock tried to argue and John shook his head, eyes catching on the tv screen showing the swirling colors of the snow storm over London and the disheartening forecast.

"No London for us, tonight." John said briskly, guiding Sherlock with one hand on the back of his coat, not quite touching him in case it would make him even more uncomfortable. "C'mon, let's get outside and see what we can find."

It didn't happen often. Sherlock could stand in crowds, fight through crowds, deduce crowds all day and never be affected once. But this was different. The post case high was flagging under the wash of people and just too much stimulation. John wanted a meal, a shower and a bed and he'd had all three more recently than Sherlock. Outside the wind snapped at them, sharp and unforgiving. The rain couldn't decide whether to be sleet or snow so the slush stung at their cheeks and made visibility practically nonexistant. "And what do you suggest now?" Sherlock snapped impatiently, more himself in the storm instead of the crowd.

"Well, flag us a taxi and I'll make some calls." John said briskly and dug his phone out to do just that. The problem being that everyone wanted a room or a car or anything they could use to get away. The taxi stopped and the driver grumbled even as they slid inside. 

"Where to? And it better not be far or you'll be walking." 

"Yeah, all right." John snapped back. "Hold on. I'm finding out."

Sherlock made a thoughtful noise, sitting with more ease in the cab and sounding more himself as he texted quickly. "Mrs. Harris is offering us the us of her place in town." He gave the address quickly and John breathed out, hanging up on the tinny music he was listening to in an effort to reach a hotel. 

"Good thing she didn't turn out to be the murderer after all." John smiled, breathing a bit easier as well.

Sherlock smiled faintly then stared out the window, hands clasped around his phone in his lap. 

It was a tense taxi ride. The roads were slick, people were rushing everywhere and the darker it got outside the worse it was. By the time the cabbie pulled up in front of a small cottage and announced their arrival the storm was too bad to make out any more of the street beyond it. Sherlock found the key while John struggled with their bags up the slippery path and was grateful to find the place hadn't been left cold and empty in the owner's absence. The heat was on enough to keep the cold out and the fireplace had wood stacked to cut the worst of the chill. Christmas decorations hung from the walls and a modest tree sat in one corner. It was beautiful and cozy and looked like something off a christmas card.

"Well, this'll do." John said, dropping their bags while Sherlock strode the space of the house, long coat flapping behind him. 

"It's not Baker Street." Sherlock pouted as he came back in. "And there's only one bedroom." He took off his coat and shook it out before setting it to hang.

John couldn't argue that. It was pretty and cozy but it wasn't home which he suddenly wanted very badly. Baker Street with its limp sort of Christmas decorations and Sherlock at the window with his violin and Mrs.Hudson downstairs cooking something delicious... "You start a fire and get dry. I'll see if she's got any food in the kitchen."

Sherlock didn't respond but they fell into companionable silence. John found the kitchen full of everything they could need and put together some soup and sandwiches. "I found some cider." John said, carrying food into the room. Sherlock looked up at him, hair tousled from the wind and rain, skin pale and cold. He was barefoot and stripped down to his shirt sleeves, dusting his hands off from dealing with the fire. He was so gorgeous that all at once it made John hurt. His chest tightened so much he stumbled and Sherlock moved, catching the food before it could spill. 

The wind howled outside and the fire crackled inside and John found himself staring into Sherlock's face. His mouth went dry and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around his friend and hold him, just for a bit. Protect him from those moments when things were too much. "John." Sherlock said and his voice was so normal, almost- chastising. John flinched and looked away quickly, aware he was flushed and obvious. So obvious.

"Sorry." He croaked then cleared his throat. "Sorry." He straightened and took the tray of food, setting it on an end table. "We should eat."

Sherlock didn't argue but sat close, perching on the edge of the chair, in John's space. "The storm could last a few days. It could be a while before we get home."

John swallowed a bit of suddenly too dry sandwich and chased it with some cider. It was all perfect. The house, the food, Sherlock. His heart lurched. "Will Mrs. Harris mind?" 

Sherlock shook his head. "She offered it to us witout limitations. She's very grateful at the moment."

"Good." John nodded, not looking at Sherlock. "We'll just have a bit of a holiday, then. Rest up before we get back to Baker Street."

Sherlock nodded. John could see the motion out of the corner of his eye and somehere in the house a clock chimed midnight, toning through the house, washing out the noise of the storm. Then suddenly Sherlock was closer. John looked up, startled, to find Sherlock staring. His eyes were sharp and intense, the look on his face once John couldn't identify. "Happy Christmas, John." He said and John blinked, realizing it was true. It was Christmas Day and he was in a cozy little cottage tucked away from the world in a storm with Sherlock. Then Sherlock ducked forward and pressed his lips quickly to John's.

John blinked in shock, saw Sherlock pull back nervously and almost dropped his cider before remembering he was holding it again. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked impatient. "You love me, John and we're on holiday now. So unless I'm missing something important, there's no reason the two of us shouldn't finish our meal then go share the only bed in the house until the storm passes."

John looked up, a smile threatening to spill across his face, but the hope and joy were tremelous, not quite real. "I think you are forgetting something." He said, setting the food and cider to the side. Sherlock blinked, looking suddenly lost again. "You love me, too."John said and it came out more of a question than a statement.

Sherlock relaxed and smiled that soft, gorgeous smile, folding himself down to lean over John, taking up all the space. "Of course. Don't be an idiot, John."

"But I'm your idiot." John grinned against his lips before Sherlock kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is day two of the Johnlock advent. I'm not sure why I keep writing their first kiss. I'm not crazy about it but there's only so much time to work on it. Hope someone enjoyed it!


End file.
